


Coming out: Sam Style

by OTPmorelike2000truepairings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, POV Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-25 18:56:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20729129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OTPmorelike2000truepairings/pseuds/OTPmorelike2000truepairings
Summary: Sam's wanted to tell Dean the truth about his sexuality for years. Dean takes it worse than expected... Or does Sam just misunderstand him?





	Coming out: Sam Style

"Dean, I've got something to tell you," Sam mutters, staring at the mirror in yet another forgettable dumpy motel room rather than face his own reflection. "Too serious," he decides, focusing on the crack in the left hand bottom corner. "Hey Jerk, I wanna tell you something." He ponders this for a moment. "No. So get this-"

"Sammy, quit fixing your princess hair and get your butt out of the bathroom! Some of us still need to wash the grave dirt off before it cements into my skin!"

Sam grimaces at his reflection and leaves the bathroom, swinging it open and sweeping out with a "Whatever, Jerk."

Dean enters the bathroom singing at the top of his lungs as the lukewarm water clicks on. Sam can't tell what he's singing above the squeaking of water pipes furiously working overtime. It's obvious Dean isn't suffering from an existential crisis like Sam is. 

He's known for a while now. Since he was in college. And he should just be honest, tell Dean the truth. Besides, Sam reflects, this could be for the best. If Dean's disgusted with him, perhaps he could live and Sam could fullfil the deal Dean took on his behalf to burn in Hell. That would be the best possible outcome. 

The water shuts off with an atrocious squawk from the pipes, and silence descends. Sam breaks it as Dean leaves the bathroom clothed in only a white towel. "Dean, I've gotta tell you something."

Dean looks at him and frowns. Sam isn't sure what he sees, but from the little dent above his right eyebrow he knows he's concerned. "Can it at least wait until I put clothes on?"

Sam nods, words having left him. Dean dresses quicker than ever before- and that's including the one time he dressed in under a minute when the FBI was coming for Dad. It's probably less than thirty seconds, and Sam wishes he had taken longer. He still hasn't figured out what to say. 

His treacherous mouth, however, runs away without him. "So get this, I'm bisexual." There had to have been a better way to ease into that!

Dean stares at him, brow creasing. He doesn't say anything, long after it's gotten awkward. 

"Say something, please?" Sam almost begs. "Anything at all."

Dean finally seems to come to a conclusion in his mind. "Get in the car," he orders, and marches himself out to follow his own advice.

Sam gapes at him before hustling out to the car himself. He straps in. "Where are we going? To the crossroads?"

Dean laughs, a short hollow aborted laugh. "Yup. How did you know?"

Sam's whole body goes cold with fear. In spite of his mental bravado earlier, he doesn't want to go to Hell. But if that's what Dean asks, he won't complain. He grits his teeth hard enough to hear them grind and waited for the empty roads and the kiss that will seal his future. 

The Impala clicks off and Sam startles. They're not in the middle of nowhere, they're in a shopping mall parking lot. "Dean, what-" there's not even a good way to end that sentence. 

Dean gestures impatiently to the sign. 'Crossroads Shopping Mall.' 

Sam stares at it. Perhaps it's run by demons? That would certainly be novel. He realizes with a start Dean is practically across the parking lot and hurries to catch up. 

He's so busy trying to figure out if he's about to die, it shouldn't matter how. Maybe this is a contract-switching place or something. He's vaguely aware of Dean shoving things into his arms, which he accepts without argument. Demon-summoning items, perhaps?

"Alright, that should be enough to start out. I'm guessing you don't know what you'll like, so-" Dean shrugs helplessly, "I grabbed a bit of everything. Go-" his face colors and he looks away as he finishes, "get dressed and let me know what you think of everything. If we need to change some things we can."

That makes no sense to Sam. He takes the clothes obediently- it's the least he can do, to be obedient for Dean- and enters the fitting room. He's holding some form of flimsy fabric, and if Dean was in a joking mood he would probably say something about how this is a sign of Sam needing to go get laid. Because it takes him entirely too long to recognize the tiny green scrap of fabric as panties. Women's panties.

Sam stares from the scrap of fabric- seriously, he had appreciated thongs on Jess, but dear God there is not much there! Which is great if you're a woman (or a man about to have sex with said woman wearing the panties) but still begs the question of why Sam is holding it. He tosses the itsy-bitsy thing away and reaches for the next article of clothes.

The next article of clothes is a pale yellow, but it's still some sort of lacy scant number that would definitely be for a woman, and not for somebody with the body type (or the genitalia) of Sam. The thing seems to be made for people who have a lot more up top than Sam, and a lot less down below. In short, this one is for a woman too.

Sam quickly rifles through the whole pile. There's got to be something here for men, right? If he's going to be sacrificed to a demon, he will not be wearing scraps of lace designed for girls! Dean will literally have to fight him, knock him unconscious, dress his gangly body in these pieces of fabric, and summon that demon himself. Sam is drawing a line and not crossing it. If he's going to Hell, there's no need to look like a woman while doing it.

There is nothing here for men. Not at all. There is an astonishing variety of panties, some things Sam thinks might be corsets, and some garters as well. But there's nothing that provides coverage, or appears male-like at all. And Sam is just very, very confused.

But what tips him over the edge is when he looks up at the dressing room door. 'Victoria Secret' is written on the door in swirly pink cursive. 

"Dean?" Sam calls, bursting through the fitting room door like an overgrown moose. "Why are we in 'Victoria Secret?'" He finds his brother, leaning against a wall of the fitting room with an uncomfortable blush across his cheeks, before continuing in a lower voice. "Listen, man, I understand if you're upset, or if you think I'm disgusting, or feel the need to call me some nasty words. Honestly, have at it. But don't dress me in girly scraps before you sell me off to Hell with the crossroads demons. Just because I like guys now doesn't mean that I need to dress like a girl."

"Sam, why would I take you to the crossroads?"

"You said you were going to!"

"I meant the mall, Sam! Crossroads Mall! Remember, we were cracking jokes about it on the way in?"

"I remember, but I didn't realize that's what you meant! I thought you wanted to switch the deals because you were disgusted by me because I'm bisexual!"

"Why would I bring you to the mall to support you if I'm only going to ship you off to Hell?"

"Why are we in Victoria Secret?"

Dean shrugs. "I don't know! I'm trying to support you!"

"By bringing me to Victoria Secret? Is this trying to show me how much I'd miss women or something?"

"No! This is what you like, and I'm trying to help show I accept you!"

"What are you talking about?"

"You're bisexual! And I'm here, with you, to show you I am completely fine with your decision to dress like a girl!" Dean yells. 

"What?" Sam's flabbergasted. "Dean, what do you think being bisexual means?"

"Wanting to wear girl clothes! Which is fine, I'll have you know! Sometimes I'm bisexual too. Supposedly it runs in families, and I don't know, I think mine is more of a kink thing, but... I dunno, Sam. I'm trying to be supportive here."

"Your kink is what?"

"Sometimes I like to wear panties. Alright?! Happy now?! I finally said it. Not often, but I do. It started with Rhonda Hurley, she made me try them on. They were pink, and I liked them, Sam. I liked them a lot. Still do. So if you wanna do the full-throttle chick thing, then I'm not really one to judge. Because I'm bisexual too."

Sam can only think of one appropriate response to this. "Dean? Bisexual means you wanna have sex with both guys and girls. That's what I am."

"Oh. Then I'm definitely not that. Guys are attractive but not bangable, know what I mean?"

Sam laughs. "I guess we'll just have to find you a cute guy then. One that converts you."

"Nah. Think I'll leave the guys for you. Leaves more ladies for me," he teases with a leer. 

"Gross, Dean! Let's get out of here, before someone hears you and calls the cops."

Dean heads toward the exit, then pauses. "So, you didn't like anything I grabbed, right?"

"No."

"Perfect." Dean darts back toward the dressing room. When he comes back, he's got a pink bag in his hands. 

"Seriously?" Sam can't help but to gripe once Dean rejoins him. 

Dean laughs. "You shoulda tried my method, Sammy. She loves that I'm buying those for my girlfriend."

"Dean, you don't have a girlfriend."

"Well, Carlie doesn't know that."

"Carlie?"

"Yeah, the cashier. She's hot. Tall, dark, and handsome... my type."

"They normally say that about men," Sam observes passively, while Dean glares at him. "So Dean, does this mean you'll be my wingman tonight?"

"I'm feeling generous today, sure. I'll help you find the guy of your dreams."

"Maybe I'll help you find one, too," teases Sam.

"No way. You wanna pay me back, you find me a hot chick. No macho guy for me!"

"Me doth think the lady protests too much," Sam answers.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. Whatever you say, Sammy boy. Just remember: tall, dark, handsome... and able to beat me in a fight."

"Dean, most dudes I know couldn't beat you in a fight, never mind the women."

"Is there a sexuality for 'prefers a strong partner that could actually win in a fight?'"

"Yeah, we call that 'submissive.'"

"Shut up, Sammy. That's not what I like either. Anybody tries tying me up and beating me they'll probably end up dead."

"True."

"But anyway, enough about me, what do you look for in a guy?"

"Shorter than me-"

"Can't be too difficult."

"Blonde. Eye color doesn't really matter. Oh, and someone who makes me laugh would be great."

"Short, blonde, and a trickster, got it," mutters Dean. 

"But not like the monster. He was cute, but after Madison I don't want to date another monster."

"Short, blonde, jokester, not a homicidal maniac, shouldn't be too hard. I can find one of those. "

"Well good luck. I never seem to find them."

"I'll go look at the bar. Don't worry, we'll find some sweet guy for you to be with once I'm gone. Then I don't have to worry about you being alone. And you'll know I approve of the change in lifestyle to normal with a white picket fence like you always wanted because I'll have been the person to pick the guy for you! This is brilliant. C'mon, Sammy. We gotta get to the bar so I can find the perfect guy for you!"


End file.
